


Sweet As Peaches On the Tongue

by Dangereuse



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Classism, Dubious Consent, Everything Snob Hannibal, Food Snob Hannibal, Hannibal POV, Hannibal is a Sick Fuck, HumbertHumbert!Hannibal, It's okay to blame Teresa for everything, Lolita!Will, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Taking Advantage of a Minor, Underage - Freeform, Unrepentantly Morally Dubious, Vulnerable Omega Will, Will is Hannibal's Nymphet, imagined cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangereuse/pseuds/Dangereuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remix of mjnobody's A/B/O Hannibal AU, where Hannibal finds omega Will much younger than anyone suspected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cunninglingus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunninglingus/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I could just eat you up (but not literally)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/833091) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> This fic is morally wrong. It is. I know that. I understand that my readers will have enough moral development to know that too. I wrote it for those who find such moral wrongness sexually titillating in regards to fiction. This fic contains an alpha/omega pairing, and all the inherent power dynamics within, as well as a colossal age difference, and taking advantage of a minor. I completely understand if you choose to skip this fic. That is fine. There will be no hard feelings. I am not going to pretend that what Hannibal does in this fic is right in any sense of the word. I will only try to stay true to the fact that Hannibal is a psychopath. The way he feels is not the way the majority of society feels, and I think, that if placed in an Alpha/Omega society, Hannibal would behave even more deplorably than he does now. That said, I hope those of you that remain enjoy this. May you find it thought and orgasm provoking!

Hannibal doesn’t usually frequent this area. The houses are all squat, aged things when they manage not to be trailers. It reminds him altogether too much and not at all of the cold backwaters of Lithuania. Something to do with the eyes, he supposes. A certain hardened desperation.

 

But this is not usual. He’s been invited to a prestigious Psychology Conference in New Orleans. Except the presitigious conference is not actually in New Orleans, but rather at a luxurious resort outside the city. And while the rooms are stellar and the accommodations excellent, the food offered is decidedly _not._

 

It’s true, that sometimes Hannibal must go off of his preferred… _diet_ , but that never means the quality of his comestibles must drop so far. He refuses to consume the edibles- ha!-provided at the hotel. 

 

This means he must drive long distances to more acclaimed restaurants, to prevent his own imminent starvation.

 

This means that he must stop at this rundown fuel station in the Louisiana bayou.

 

This means that, although the fuel station proclaims itself to be ‘full-service’, Hannibal has to walk himself up to the attendant’s window, and knock sharply against the glass to get his attention.

 

He has to knock _twice_ before the man drops his magazine and turns his attention to Hannibal. Then he requires Hannibal to _wait while he finishes his phone call._  

 

The attendant is not apologetic at all. 

 

That’s it. Hannibal has a policy about hunting in strange places, where he is made more vulnerable merely by the simple fact that he doesn’t know the area or the people. Moreover, he cannot take enough meat from each kill. There is no place to store it and he has only mediocre implements to prepare it. It is altogether a waste.

 

But this, Hannnibal thinks, will be worth it. For the simple pleasure of transporting this lowly, rude, blue collar worker into _art._ He will cut off the man’s fat hands, sever his jabbering tongue. He’ll slice open his soft belly, so careful not to perforate the intestines and ruin the meat, peel the skin and fat and entrails away, layer by layer, to pull out the man’s liver. He’ll place his hands inside the man’s body cavities, feel the systemic thrum of his heartbeat fade away with his hands. He’ll jab the man’s fat worthless hands into the cavity his liver should hold, until they sprout from his stomach like a grotesque flowering plant. And then he’ll wrap his dead fingers to gently clasp his garrulous tongue, a sweet tender tidbit offered to the investigators who will find him.

 

For that second, it’s too hard to keep his polite expression on his face, too difficult to pretend to be anything but that harsh lined creature Bedelia sees peeking out of the mask he wears as a second skin. It’s too hard, to be anything but the Alpha predator he is. The beta knows it. For one long moment Hannibal watches his terror unfold across his face.

 

Then he hears it. A soft, unsure ‘Oh’, no louder than an exhaled breath. Hannibal catches the scent in his nostrils the barest of seconds before he whips his head around.

 

It’s an omega boy, not more than sixteen or seventeen. So small his arms and legs are not fully grown; his hands and feet just a bit too large at the end of his skinny limbs. The little omega boy’s toes are bare, poking out, winking at Hannibal. Hannibal wonders what it would be like to bite them, to place the bare wriggling his toes in his mouth and mark them with his teeth.

 

A little Lolita child. Hannibal parts his lips, sucks a mouthful of the boy’s scent into his mouth, runs it delicately over his tongue. It’s exquisite, the scent of young omega ripening, priming up for its first heat. Hannibal fixes the boy with his full attention, watches with satisfaction as the boy’s body freezes, entire body caught up in an omegan startle reflex. He’s frozen, muscles locked up and unable to move. The perfect little prey.

 

The omega boy is wearing an oversized sweater, the neck stretched and worthless. It is a horrid grey, it’s only redeeming quality that it sags over the boy’s collarbone, revealing a stretch of pure, unblemished skin over skinny, underdeveloped bones. The boy is unmated. This boy, this tiny little strip of an omega cannot have even entered his first heat.

 

Then the omega boy bravely meets his eyes. For one long moment he looks at Hannibal, unthinkingly meeting an alpha gaze. Hannibal knows the boy sees what Hannibal is in that instant, knows he is looking at the biggest predator he’ll see in his entire life. Hannibal sees fear blossom in the omega’s eyes. The omega hurriedly jerks his eyes down, but it’s too late for Hannibal not to see the intelligence shining in them. The boy is right to be afraid.

 

Hannibal forces himself to exhale. The boy probably doesn’t know what he’s doing, standing there, his old, oversized sweater falling off of one shoulder and his bare toes curling in the ground. Exuding vulnerability. Tempting any alpha to take his first heat.

 

His _first heat_. He can have this beautiful omega child’s first heat.  Hannibal looks at the omega boy’s face, angelic and sweet, hiding under a curly mop of soft downy hair. He can _take_ this omega child, can bite his mark in a beautiful ring of red and purple around his neck, can mate him rough and hold him tenderly after, can _claim him as Hannibal’s own_. The thought brings Hannibal up short.

 

Just long enough for the omega boy to regain control of his limbs and bolt. Hannibal watches the boy tear off behind the fuel station, leaving only his sweat feverish scent behind. Hannibal rolls it over his tongue one more time, savoring the scent as he would a fine peach before he sunk his teeth into it. He can have that omega boy.

 

And he will.

 

****

 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s easy enough work to find out where the omega boy lives.

 

The boy is nearly heating, his little body shedding a scent trail is so thick and obvious as to be _blood_.  

 

The boy’s home is a mess of aluminum siding, and Hannibal can scent two rancid betas underneath the beautiful scent of the boy. The betas make this easy. It will be so simple to go in there and take the boy for his own. As much as betas claim full autonomy, there’s a part of them that can’t help but yield to their alpha superiors.

 

Hannibal parks the rental car in what remains of their gravel sideyard, and approaches the doorway. His alpha ears pick up the scrabbling of betas behind the door, the hurried call of a beta woman to whatever passes for her mate. “Douglas, there’s someone coming!”

 

In the kitchen window, there’s a small flurry of yellow curtains. Hannibal spots the boy instantly, his alpha instincts fixating on those clever eyes hiding underneath his unruly hair.

 

Hannibal meets the boy’s gaze as raises his hand up to the door to knock. The omega boy’s eyes go wide with fear, before he ducks back into the house, as if he can hide himself away from Hannibal simply by breaking his gaze.

 

As if Hannibal had not hunted him to this very door.   

 

Hannibal raps once at the door. At once he hears terrified whispers of the beta woman on the other side, before the door swings open.

 

The beta woman is small, hair a thin mousy brown. She’s wearing a faintly patterned dress and a small washed out smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Those are the boy’s, cool blue-grey and too intelligent. It’s almost a shame. The best a beta can be in this world is a homely little fool.

 

“Good Afternoon, Madame,” Hannibal leans into the doorframe, making sure that the woman before him experiences the full length and breadth of his height. “I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter. It’s a pleasure.”

 

***

 

It’s easy enough to gain entrance to the boy’s household.

 

It’s amusing to watch the whole household scatter around him: the beta woman skitters to the kitchen for refreshment, her beta excuse for a mate hustling in from the rooms towards the back of the house, and above all, the boy, still and motionless on the stairs to the upper floors with the family’s mangy, long-haired dogs brushing against his sides.

 

The boy watches him through the bars of the staircase, his fingers buried in a mutt’s fur. He watches with wary eyes over fattened cheeks, still plump with the remainder of his childish fat, surveying him as an antelope does the big cat.  He’ll be so _delicious_ when Hannibal sinks his teeth into him.

 

The beta male has the boy’s hair, soft down curls that fall into his face. He’s also got glasses, obscuring his perfectly mundane brown beta eyes. Hannibal doesn’t get the same impression of intelligence in this beta’s eyes. Good. Betas often cling to the gender distinctions of male and female as if they do not know the natural order of things.

 

The beta is cleaning his hands with some sort of dirt stained rag before he offers his hand to Hannibal. There are remnants of black grease on the man’s hands. Hannibal forces a polite smile onto his face, extends his own palm to shake. He eases into the man’s space, allows his very _alphaness_ to curl into the air between them. “I am Hannibal Lecter. I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

 

The beta man clears his throat: “Douglas Graham.” The man fumbles for a few moments, before he reclaims himself and gestures for Hannibal to take a seat.   

 

Hannibal settles himself on a faded blue sofa just in time for the beta woman to bring in a tray of sweet tea. It’s in a plastic pitcher, glasses mismatched. She hands one of the classless polka-dotted things to Hannibal first.

 

Hannibal takes a sip and discretely sets the glass on the coffee table beside him. “Thank you Mrs. Graham.”

 

She flushes with the attention and runs to fetch him some tinned cookies from the kitchen.

 

Douglas clears his throat, “Uh, What brings you to our neck of the woods, Mr. Lecter?”

 

Hannibal represses a flinch. “It’s Doctor, if you would.” Hannibal stretched indolently, letting himself sprawl further over the Graham’s ridiculous excuse for a sofa. He is an alpha, and it does not hurt to remind these…classless betas of the fact.

 

“Um, yes, Doctor Lecter. I apologize.” Graham stumbles over the silence between them for a long moment.

 

Hannibal lets it go on longer than it should, watching every thought flit across the poor  man’s face,  a pitiful creature’s pride warring with the ill-fitting coat of propriety and fear in the face of a better.

 

“I’m here about your omega son.”

 

“William? I apologize if he’s caused any trouble, he’s the absentminded s--” Graham trails off, losing steam as it finally hits him.

 

“William Graham.” Hannibal runs the name over his tongue, looks from the father to the boy still hiding on the steps. How very different they are. How could something so beautiful come from something so—that?

 

“He’s pure,” Will’s father blurts.

 

Hannibal forces himself to react only with the lift of his eyebrows. Graham shifts in his squeaky armchair, unsure. “William, come here.”

 

Hannibal can see the omega boy startle on the steps from the corner of his eye. He can see the indecision on his face, his normal omegan instinct to flee warring with his instinctual behavior to _obey._

 

Obedience wins. The omega boy rises off the stairs, carefully picking himself out from the bodies of the mutts, each tentative step down bringing him closer to Hannibal.

 

He enters the room slowly, clearly burdened by being the focus of the room. He moves to perch himself on the edge of the couch furthest from them, until Graham clicks his tongue. Will startles, before he moves to arrange himself at Graham’s feet.

 

It’s a terrible presentation. Will is huddled into himself, the angle wrong for displaying the curve of his neck, the slenderness of his limbs.  Clearly it’s a pose inexpertly copied off of TV or some trite classless film, an affectation forced on him by the betas who know no better. 

 

Even so, Hannibal has to admit it’s no less pleasing.  His posture and form can and will be corrected, but his potential is _stunning_. Hannibal pulls his gaze away with effort.

 

Graham's eyes are darkening, his gaze running over Hannibal's body, mentally calculating the expense layered in every inch of Hannibal's clothes. The sensation is not altogether unlike the man is running his dirty, oil-encrusted fingers over Hannibal, to see how much he can be squeezed. How quaint, that the beta thinks he holds some power over this interaction.

 

“Our William is quite remarkable,” the beta says, as if tasting the air with his words.

 

“Quite. Has he many suitors?”

 

Graham fumbles over the question. “Um, no—“

 

“Then it would not be unwelcome for me to declare my suite.”

 

“No! No! I mean yes— “

 

Hannibal tries not to curl his lip in disgust. It’s obvious that the man does not know the usual proceedings, and is completely bemused. “I would like to court your boy, _William_.” Hannibal runs the name of his future mate over his tongue, nearly tasting the syllables.  “I assure you I can care for him well. I am an esteemed psychiatrist and medical professional.” Hannibal draws out his wallet and plucks from it one of his business cards.

 

He hands it to Graham. The man grasped the creamy cardstock with grimy hands, his fingerprint wiping off on the textured paper. He looksat it, nonplussed, as if unsure what to do with it. “Uh, yes, that’s—”

 

“Do you find my credentials satisfactory for your son, or do you wish for me to arrange for a phone call from my office?”

 

Graham stutters. For the first time, the omega moves at his feet, reaching out one hand to his father’s pant leg and stroking his fingers down it. Graham startles, and then obviously relaxes. The omega is appeasing him, settling his nerves and allowing him to collect himself. How marvelous.

 

Graham lays his hand in Will’s hair, soothing it back off his forehead. “Yes, that is… satisfactory.”

 

"There is one more thing," Hannibal flicks his wrist indolently and waits for all attention to settle once more on himself. 

 

"The matter of the omega's purity must be affirmed."

 

Hannibal can see as Will curls deeper in on himself from his kneeling position, trying to hide himself under that fall of downy hair and cringing from his father’s touch.

 

Graham immediately starts his salesman schtick. "Of course! Will is completely pure. He's not even been touched, hasn't even been through a wet heat, and we lock him up tight even through--"

 

"I would check, with your permission, of course."

 

"Yes! Yes, Will, get up," The beta grabs Will by the scruff of the neck, pulls him upwards and starts to jerk off the boy's shirt. 

 

Hannibal catches him by the wrist, forces a smile. "I'm sure the boy can manage." His skin itches to see those beta hands imparting their sickly scent all over the boy. 

 

He nods to the boy to begin to disrobe. 

 

With trembling arms, the omega reaches up to undo his buttons and slip his arms out of the sleeves. It is the most exquisite torture, to watch as the boy reveals more and more of his omega skin, slowly and artlessly, as if the whole room is not waiting on the presentation of his skin. 

 

The omega scent intensifies in the air, those lovely pheromones almost tickling at his nose. It grows even worse as the boy's pants bunch before sliding down his slim hips. 

 

"If I might?" Hannibal asks, and it's nothing but the thinnest of courtesies, barely waiting for Graham's nod before reaching out one hand to brush against the omega's skin. 

 

Hannibal lifts his hand to Will's chin, ostensibly checking for bites and scratches, any proof of a rival alpha's claim, but Hannibal only has eyes for the long line of the omega's neck, the protrusion of his collarbones underneath that thin omega skin. Hannibal lets his hand drop along the omega's body, his touch brushing the omega's small pink nipple with the barest of touches. The boy gasps, his small pink mouth popping open in an 'o'.

 

His long fingers come to rest on the elastic band of the boy's briefs, the tips of his fingers barely exerting the tiniest pressure on the fabric. "And these, Will."

 

The omega shivers and a rash of goosebumps runs over his shoulders. Hannibal meets his gaze, and Will freezes, his whole body caught up in the omegan prey instinct. It’s not unlike the response of a doe freezing in front of a superior foe. 

 

"Go on, Will, Strip for the man." The omega's father says. 

 

Hannibal can see little burgeoning pearls of Will’s sweat beading on the omega’s shoulders, in the hollows of his neck. The omegan scent intensifies in the room. With his thoroughbred alpha nose, Hannibal can scent the progression of his hormone release. Earlier, he smelt of young omega, still dry and unheated, but now, now his scent has deepened and become both sweeter and muskier. Soon Will’s body will be entirely receptive, tumbling headfirst into his first adult heat. All because of Hannibal.

 

Will’s eyes flutter shut, dark little lashes falling soft against his blushing cheeks. He takes a small fortifying breath and drags the briefs down his hips. 

 

Hannibal can't help the small breath that escapes him; he feels as if he’s been struck by the sight and scent of him. The omega is so beautiful, his long skinny limbs covered in creamy, unbitten skin. His small vestigial cock hangs flaccid between his legs. Hannibal allows himself to run his hand in the air over Will's thin thigh, over the red skinned flesh of his knee.

 

Hannibal clenches and releases the muscles of his hand. The scratch makes his skin prickle. This small omega boy should never have come to harm. The only marks he should bear is of an alpha—of _Hannibal’s_ —prowess.

 

Hannibal tears himself away from the front and circles behind Will to better view the long stretch of his back over the tight little mounds of his ass. As if magnetized, Hannibal's gaze immediately falls to shadow between the omega's cheeks. 

 

Will flinches when Hannibal lays one of his hands on his back. Hannibal's hand stretches over the expanse of Will's lower back, his thumb resting right before the shallow divot that begins the definition between Will's cheeks, and his fingers splayed over the bump-bump-bump of Will’s spine.

 

Will’s body freezes once more when Hannibal exerts a gentle pressure on his flesh.

 

Hannibal makes a soothing sound and strokes with his thumb over the sensitive skin. Hannibal leans in to the curve of Will's ear, until his breath ghosts over Will's pinnae. "Bend over for me," he nearly breathes. He slowly intensifies the inescapable pressure on Will’s back. 

 

Will looks to his father in his uncertainty, the swallow of his throat audible to Hannibal’s ears. Hannibal nearly growls, represses the urge to slap the omega's rear in punishment. He should attend to Hannibal's commands and obey Hannibal _first_. 

 

Hannibal takes another deep breath. That will be easy enough to correct, when Will is safely in his hands. For the instant, Hannibal presses harder. 

 

Obediently, Will bends at the waist, his knees trembling now. It’s no work at all for Hannibal to insinuate his shoe between the omega's bare feet, forcing him to spread his legs.

 

Will makes a small broken noise in the back of his throat and Hannibal feels his cock go instantly hard in his pants. 

 

There it is. Will's virgin entrance, that little pink hole. Hannibal lets loose a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Will is untouched, his hole the perfect light rose color that can only indicate an omega’s purity. 

 

The scent of him is too thick in the air. Hannibal forces his hand off of the omega even as his instincts implore him to grip tighter. "Proof has been satisfied." The ritual words feel clumsy on his tongue, tripped up by Will’s scent in the air.

 

Hannibal takes a few steps backwards to re-situate himself on the couch. His eyes track every jerky, prey movement of Will’s. Soon he’ll have to find a way to hide his attraction. 

 

"That leaves only the price." Graham says, his beta scent poisoning the air.

 

Will reaches for his clothes; only for his father to step on them, pinning them to the floor. 

 

"Yes." Hannibal draws himself back. He's let Will's father see too much of him. He has to gather himself.  "The omega-price." He pauses to collect himself and to allow Graham to squirm. "Has Will been to finishing school?" Of course Will hasn’t. But it serves well enough to regain the upper hand. 

 

"No, but Will here is top of his class. He's real clever." As if a classical education means anything for an omega. Hannibal’s mouth twists in derision. Will’s cleverness is obvious to look at him, his eyes tracking the room, noting every nuance and emotional shift in the room. The way he bows his head at Hannibal's feet to acknowledge the better predator is proof enough. Will’s intelligence is only a marker of how well he can be trained to please.  

 

Hannibal lets out a disapproving hum. 

 

Graham licks his lips nervously, the sense of power that Hannibal's obvious desire had mistakenly given him fading away. "I want thirty for him."

 

Hannibal considers. Thirty thousand? What a paltry sum for such exemplary stock.

 

Hannibal purposefully does not look at Will, no matter how he trembles on the floor. Will’s father underestimates him, skipping so early to a final sum, with no attempt to haggle for a bonus per child Will will successfully bear him and no pressure to assign a personal allotment for Will. Perfect.

 

Hannibal breathes in, running the omega scent over his tongue one more time. Sweeter than the finest wine. "I will give you thirty-five under the condition that the courtship will be concluded today and his guardianship will be conferred to me—effective immediately."

 

The beta's eyes lighten with self-satisfaction, as if he has fooled Hannibal. "What do you think, Willy? Do you like Dr. Lecter here?"

 

How trite, to ask for the omega's permission. As if his father hasn't already decided. Hannibal forces himself to look amicable, approachable, even as he cringes at the deplorable nickname. Willy. How juvenile.

 

Will looks from Hannibal to his father, before his eyes flicker over to the closed kitchen door that his mother is no doubt crouched behind. 

 

He nods. 

 

"Very well." Hannibal rises from the chair to impose his height over the entire room. "I will return in three hours. I expect Will to be freshly showered and groomed and wearing his best."

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

Three hours later, Hannibal promptly shows up at the Graham abode. He wrinkles his nose, and grabs the knocker with his handkerchief. He's made reservations at a hotel close to here, one that holds suites for bonding couples, and can ensure complete and total privacy while Will's heat runs its course.  

 

It takes the Grahams longer this time to open the door. Hannibal shifts his feet. This is unacceptably rude. Punctuality is imperative. Hannibal raises his kerchief to knock once more, but pauses. Being around such a blissfully compatible omega has heightened his senses in preparation for mating.  

 

"You stupid boy! Your alpha is outside now and you are filthy! What were you thinking? Douglas, why did you grab him so hard? His hair is all mussed." 

 

Hannibal has heard enough. He knocks once more. 

 

The door opens. Hannibal's eyes fall immediately to Will. Will stands there under the attentions of his mother. While Hannibal watches, she quickly clips a thread from the shoulder of Will's oversized button-up. It's obvious the shirt isn't Will’s, almost as obvious as the fact that someone recently grabbed _his_ Will by the back of his neck. His hair is visibly mussed. 

 

Hannibal can't help but come closer, suppressing the growl in the back of his throat. This is his omega, solely his to discipline. Hannibal reaches out a hand himself to smooth down the wild mess of Will's hair. Then he turns his hand to rub his wrist against the back of Will's neck, scentmarking him with the touch.

 

Hannibal takes in the sight of Will, wide-eyed, the scent of his fear and uncertainty rising up even over the smell of his ripening heat. Hannibal shifts his grip to the back of Will's neck, and squeezes, gentling him. 

 

"Are you ready?" Hannibal asks. Will gives him a small nod, all the while looking at his feet. He reaches down to a small suitcase at his feet. 

 

"What is this?" Hannibal sneers down at a small disheveled valise. 

 

"My things." Will says to him. "I've only got the one suitcase, and it's very small." Will looks at him and knows immediately he's erred. He begins to babble, an omegan panic reflex. "I can fit my things in a plastic sack if you want, it'll be smaller and--" 

 

"Leave it." Hannibal orders. 

 

"What?" Will stammers. 

 

"Leave it." Hannibal says coolly, his agitation rising. He reaches out for Will's hand around the valise, carefully pries his omega fingers away from it. "I will provide."

 

For the first time, Will makes eye contact with him, his wide omega eyes blinking up at him. Hannibal can see wetness pooling in the corners of his eyes, slowly dampening his lashes until they stick together beautifully. 

 

Hannibal is as aroused at the sight of Will's tears as he was at the sight of the omega's tiny pink puckered hole. He watches, transfixed, as Will drags his eyes down from his own, watches as beautiful teardrops teeter and fall from the corners of his eyes. "But my books--"

 

Hannibal exerts a harder pressure on the back of Will's neck, and pull's Will closer to his side, angling Will's neck until he has no choice but to suck in the hot rich alpha pheromones strongest at the lee of his neck. 

 

Hannibal watches Will's mouth pop open, his eyes dilate even as they well full of tears. His heat is _so_ close. "You will come to me with empty hands, as is tradition." It would be a blemish on his honor to allow the omega to bring such filthy low class goods into his house. Hannibal will provide. As a thoroughbred alpha he can do nothing less. 

 

Will nods and swallows heavily, the short hairs of his neck brushing against Hannibal's hand. He is lovely like this, lips parted and wet, displaying his neck and throat to Hannibal in glorious submission. 

 

"Dr. Lecter." Will's mother has the audacity to interrupt him. "The small matter of payment."  

 

Hannibal squeezes the back of Will's neck tight for a long moment, before he nods and drops his hand. "Of course." It's simple work to hand the check to the woman. The check’s made out for 35,000 dollars, likely more than she's ever seen in her life, but it’s barely a drop in his own account. Hannibal would have paid double it, even triple, for the pleasure of mounting this sweet boy. 

 

It's his right and privilege to take this boy to mate, to prove that he could provide for him in all ways by meeting his omega-price. To do less would be to dishonor Will, to cast doubt that he was a capable alpha. It would depreciate Will, make this beautiful wet-eyed thing damaged goods. 

 

The beta woman stares at the check in her hands for long moments, her eyes glistening, before she carefully folds it in half and tucks it down her blouse. Hannibal fights not to cringe, instead moving his hand to rest once more on the back of Will's neck. He squeezes, gently.

 

It is time to go, time to take William Graham away from this place. To take him and mate him and make him Hannibal's own.  

 

Hannibal leads him out the door and into his new life. 

 

****

 

It’s easy work to bundle Will into the car, but it's temptation itself to leave Will's pink lips alone, to wait and wait and wait all through the long drives of the trashy bayous of Louisiana with the sweet, sweet scent of the omega in the car. 

 

Hannibal burns. His body is heated and flushed, as if his entire skeletal system is burning white hot and slow underneath his skin.  

 

"Um, sir?" Will asks, tentatively. His tears from earlier have stopped, leaving his cheeks sticky with their trails and a beautiful bright, rosy red. 

 

Hannibal hums low in his throat and fights the instinct to turn it into a growl. Hannibal tries not to notice the way that his own scent is affecting Will. It hurts to watch Will squirm in his seat, to rub his ass all over the rental car as he fights his oncoming heat. He's priming up for Hannibal, his whole body coming online in a glorious rush of omega pheromones. 

 

"Do you live close?" Will asks, his voice soft and thready. 

 

"Mercifully no." 

 

There's a small pause, where Will picks at the cuff of his oversized button-up. "Do you," Will pauses as he turns the small button on the cuff back and forth, back and forth. "Do you think I'll be able to go to school where you live? I've only got a month or so until I graduate. I have good grades. It should be easy to transfer."

 

"Whatever for?"

 

Will frowns. "You know, get my diploma." Will squirms down once in his seat. Hannibal's fingers twitch.

 

"That is hardly necessary." Hannibal waves his hand, before bringing it down to Will's leg. He needs to be secured, to be prevented from wiggling, and to prevent the waste of his slick being spread on the inside of his pants. "You are mine now. I will care for you." 

 

Hannibal looks over then, and it's easy to see that Will is telegraphing all the signs of an omega in heat distress, his eyes blowing wide and filling of tears. It’s just the irrationality of his burgeoning heat then, fogging his mind and forcing him to cling so desperately to those sad, dimensionless placeholders he’s clung to in lieu of a proper alpha.

 

The rich scent of Will’s despair thickens over his heat smell, enhancing and enriching his scent to make it darker, headier.   

 

That is more than enough temptation. Hannibal jerks the steering wheel, guiding the rental car off the highway and onto the side of the road.

 

Hannibal leans over, reaching out one hand to grasp Will by the neck and tilt Will’s lips up as an offering to himself. He falls on Will like he’s starved, years and years and years of finding petty release in unsatisfactory betas, when all this time his mate, his perfect omegan complement, was huddling unnoticed in this filth. Will’s lips are pliant and warm, and his mouth knows better than his mind, opening readily under the press of Hannibal’s lips.

 

It’s easy to feast on the tender flesh of his omega’s mouth, until the console between them grows to a thick, uncomfortable weight against his waist and Will’s lips swell perfectly plump underneath his teeth. Only then can he pull himself away.

 

Will breathes heavily when his lips are freed, eyes gone soft and open. He’s not fidgeting, not anymore, his whole body turning soft and receptive to Hannibal’s. Hannibal releases his neck. His hands feel empty then, and he has to clench and release his fingers to dismiss the still-warm heat of Will in his hand.

 

Will slouches in his seat when released. He’s directionless and adrift, near still but for the tiny flexes of his hips and the ripple of muscle across his stomach. Hannibal can’t help but to smile. Will is perfect, unbelievably susceptible to the unique cocktail of hormones in his saliva. Perfectly attuned to his own body. Hannibal allows himself to trace his hand once more over the blooming swollen flush of Will’s lips before forcing both hands to the Will and directing the car back on the road.

 

He’s won this boy, bought and earned him. He’s won the right to mate him, and when he forces his way into Will’s body for the first time it won’t be in a rental car on the side of the road. He’ll take Will as he was meant to be taken,

 

***

 

Hannibal doesn’t allow himself to relax until he closes the door to their rented bonding suite behind him. He can’t help but track every moment of his omega, from his small flinch as the door locks, to his shy skitter away from him. It’s final. They won’t leave the bonding suite until Hannibal has successfully bonded Will to him.

 

“So, um…” Will says, and then stops, his social anxiety preventing him from speaking. He’s scrambled a few steps away from Hannibal now, just out of arm’s reach. How quaint, to think he can run away, can evade, when he is so utterly hemmed in on all sides.

 

The effect of the hormones in his saliva has faded, and Will is coming back to himself now. He’s holding himself tighter, his small shoulders nearly tucked to his ears. His scent is growing sharper once more. Hannibal can’t have that. He closes the space between him and his new omega, boxing Will in with his bigger length and breadth.

 

Will jerks his head up enough that his eyes make it all the way to Hannibal’s chin, before he drops his gaze submissively. His breath shudders out.

 

“Are you nervous?” Hannibal asks.

 

Will shakes his head, so terribly obvious in his lie. Hannibal almost can’t help but laugh. His boy will learn not to keep things from him. Instead, he reaches up hands to grip Will’s cheap white button up. He’ll be so much more beautiful without clothes.

 

Hannibal disrobes Will with steady fingers, touching Will with sure, firm hands. He has to gentle him. The poor omega is nearly trembling, long thin legs shaking underneath him, and his fear scent is climbing to uncomfortable levels.

 

Hannibal doesn’t think he’ll allow Will to wear anything for the next few days, not if he clings to his clothes like this. “Let’s get you comfortable, then.” He strips off the shirt in efficient movements, neatly plucking the offending buttons out of their corresponding holes. Each new peek of Will’s flesh feels like a present to himself; each new bared inch of skin intensifying the omega scent in the room. It’s curling in his nostrils now, the undeniable scent of an omega in first heat creating a sympathetic response in Hannibal; his body is pumping out untold amounts of adrenaline in response to this glorious stimulus. 

 

Hannibal casts the offending shirt to the floor and starts on his trousers. Even though he saw Will naked like this just hours ago, it’s as striking to see him now as it was the first time. Will is slender and milky white underneath his clothes, all long limbs that he hasn’t quite grown into yet. He’s hairless in his youth, and Hannibal runs his thumbs over Will’s dusky rose nipples, watching as they pebble at his lightest touch. Will shivers, but his hands still go to Hannibal’s shoulders. Hannibal can feel the slight dimpled pressure of the omega’s fingernails in his flesh.

 

Hannibal backs Will up into the bed, ghosting his hands all along the lean sides of Will’s flanks. Will’s knees hit the bed with a soft thump. His weight goes out from under him and he lands back onto the soft mattress. For a moment, panic flares bright in his eyes, before Hannibal follows him over, pressing him securely into the mattress.

 

Will goes as stiff as an offended cat, his arms scrunched up between them, unsure and wide-eyed, before his heat takes over. He looks adorable, so beautiful, eyes soft; his swollen lips wet and from the smallest flick of his little pink tongue.

 

Hannibal dips his head to retake Will’s mouth. Will’s lips are a revelation, red and swollen-hot against his own. They’re not at Hannibal’s home, but they’re locked in this suite with soundproof walls and heat locks and something inside Hannibal untwists. Will is his, his omega, unclaimed beneath him. How has he waited _so long?_

 

Hannibal knows the exact second when his own pheromones trip Will from semi-rational arousal into full blown heat. The scent thickens and explodes in his nostrils, even as Will’s lips go softer and more pliant against his own.

 

“I need, I need,” Will says, his fingers scrabbling over Hannibal’s shoulders, eyes wide and blown. He’s too innocent to articulate that he needs to be filled, too inexperienced to do anything but writhe in the sheets, rocking his pelvis against the steady weight of Hannibal above him.

 

“Shh, shh,” Hannibal soothes, as he hurriedly shucks his own suit off. He lets the fine material fall and crinkle on the floor. He needs this, needs the sinful touch of Will’s skin against his own.

 

Will stops struggling, clutching at Hannibal’s bare shoulders with wide eyes and a panting mouth. His eyes are blown, all words stolen from his throat and replaced with thick gasping sounds. He tries to wrap his long coltish legs around Hannibal’s waist, to bring them together and rub his own small cock against Hannibal’s.

 

No. He can’t mate Will like this, not and knot him properly. It’s easy enough to grasp Will by his small shoulders and move him, and Will is more than willing and pliant under his hands. Hannibal flips him over, arranges him perfectly on his hands and knees.

 

Will stops struggling for contact then, his brain short-circuited by instinct. Instantly he drops to his elbows, arching his back and presenting to Hannibal. Every single omega knows what to do under an alpha like this, knows to stretch and curve their spine for the best possible display, showing themselves off for their alpha.  Even one as young as Will.

 

He’s perfect.

 

Hannibal drops over him, running the lean lines of him under his hands, the too-skinny bump-bump-bump of his ribs and the wide child-bearing jut of his hips. It’s unbearable now, to see the clean, milky-white expanse of his neck. He’s been unmarked for too long.

 

Once Hannibal starts biting, it’s impossible to stop. Will's skin is so soft, the muscles dimpling under his teeth, his skin so tender. It’s impossible not to bite, not to feel that bloodhot rush of living flesh in his mouth and weigh the choice of ripping all the way into it with his teeth in his mouth.  
  
Will's flesh is darkening and bruising a glorious red purple in the shapes of Hannibal's teeth, but still he wasn't moving, incapable of fighting that instinct inside him that called for complete and utter passive submission.   
  
Hannibal slinks down Will's body until he’s positioned over the hottest part of him, until his sight is filled with nothing but the pale pink glisten of Will's virgin hole. He strokes the curve of his omega’s bottom, before biting once more and sinking his teeth hard into the meat of it. His teethmarks will form a perfect ring, a undeniable mark of ownership on Will's ass.

  
Hannibal inhales, once, twice with his nose pressed up against the skin, before sinking his face into the lee of Will's crack and diving in with lips and tongue. Will smells so good, tastes so good, Hannibal’s entire being caught up in devouring the hormone laden heat scent of his mate.   
  
Will freezes up against the press of tongue, before going lax and sweet against the pressure of his lips. It must feel so good to his omega boy, so good to receive this stimulation in a place he was forbidden to touch.  Everyone knows that an omega's body is close to sexually dormant before their first wet heat, and even then an omega always knows better than to touch themselves there, to preserve the pretty pink of their virginity. Will pants against his spot of the sheets, his breath rapid and aroused and the scent of his arousal so thick and drugging in the room.   
  
Hannibal keeps at his task, until Will's slick production is even greater than Hannibal can lap up with each flick of his tongue, streaking down the sides of his face a wetting the insides of Will's thighs. He’s so perfectly wet, nearly drenched in his readiness for his first mating, and Hannibal can only thrill at the excellence of his choice of mate. It’s an unfortunate reality that an omega sometimes won’t produce slick the first heat and will require synthetic lubricants to receive their first mating properly. Hannibal will not have to tolerate the alien scent of the lubricant, not with Will responding to his thoroughbred alpha pheromones like this.

 

But even as Will courses slick down his thighs, Will's hole does not gape, refusing to loosen from its tight furl.  
  
Hannibal slips his finger into Will's heat. The omega jolts, overwhelmed at the touch, before pitching forward and collapsing; his entire weight falls from his elbows to rest on his shoulders and face. Hannibal tsks as Will’s presentation fails, curling his finger. One day soon he will teach his boy to stay upright, head and ass curved up and back bowed in the perfect _lodorsis_ position. Right now, Will is exposed enough for his alpha nature, entrance presented to Hannibal’s view. In fact, Will’s inexperience is reassuring, settling his archaic instincts with the knowledge that no other alpha has touched Will or trained him, that he’s coming to Hannibal’s bed and to his house pure and ready to be marked.   
  
Will is tight, clenching down tightly on Hannibal's finger and jerking pitifully in pleasure each time Hannibal rubs up against his insides. It's only one finger, but Will should be looser than this judging by the corresponding deluge of slick. It’s new to Will, so very knew that he doesn't know how to open up to accept Hannibal's touch.  
  
It's no matter. If Will cannot offer looseness than Hannibal will _take_ his tightness. Hannibal moves himself up Will's body once more, until his chest is pushed flush against Will's skinny back and his cock is nestled in between Will's cheeks. Hannibal ruts there for a moment, taunting himself and rubbing Will's slick along his length. But it's just a tease compared with the pleasure that awaits him and Hannibal can't wait much longer.  
  
Hannibal grips himself to align with the omega's hole, leaning back off Will for the first time so he can watch himself sink in to Will’s small body, can see his own cock disappear into that wet heat. The push in is tight, so tight around his cock, Will’s body nearly fighting him for the privilege.

 

Hannibal can feel the exact second Will’s body yields utterly, his body readjusting itself not to keep him out, but to hold him tucked _in_.  
  
Hannibal shudders over Will at the sensation, almost losing all strength in his arms and collapsing over his mate, it feels so _divine_. Will's muscles are trying and failing to clench down on him properly, instead fluttering over the entire length of him as if to milk his release, and his knot, out. Hannibal drops his hands down over Will's as they lay passive in the sheets, interlocking their fingers and making sure he stays perfectly in place.  
  
When he hears the sob it's from far away, filtering to him from what seems like a long tunnel of pleasure. Even so, it hits him as if he's been electrocuted. He sees his own hand, involuntarily reach before him and clasp the soft curls on the back of Will's head. He lifts and twists, forcing the omega to stop burrowing into the sheets and bare his face.  
  
Will's face is wet, beautiful glistening tears shining against his flushed cheeks.  
  
It's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen.  
  
Hannibal brings his head down to lap at the sheen of tears on Will's face, tasting their rich salt on his tongue. His perfect boy. Hannibal leans until his own cheek is flush with Will’s, his tears pressed against his own skin. His hands once again move to Will’s, pinning him perfectly underneath him.

 

From this position it’s obvious how well they fit, his body tucked up against every inch of Will’s and his mouth flush against Will’s ear. “You are so good for me,” he drops into Will’s ear, brushing his lips against the thin skin of Will’s ear, and teasing the sensitive curve of it with his teeth. Will shudders and his breaths speed up.  

 

It’s too much temptation now not to thrust, to draw himself out of Will’s body and plunge back in, each time as vicious as the first. It’s intoxicating when Will starts to pant, his body struggling against Hannibal’s own. His body is reacting, preparing to climax for the first time with an alpha inside him.  
  
Hannibal has read papers about this, has even been co-author on one of his own. It's necessary to take an omega hard at the first mating, to prove ownership and authority over a mate. An omega responds best this way; the highest possible chance of bonding occurring only when properly dominated. And it dovetails so neatly with his own desires. Hannibal pushes Will more securely to the mattress, fucking deeply into Will’s proffered ass.

 

Will responds perfectly. Hannibal can feel his body drawing tighter and tighter, his pleasure no doubt building in his core. His tears are slowing now, and the noises dropping from his perfect lips going higher and breathier. It’s time.

 

Hannibal sinks his teeth again into the juncture of Will’s neck and shoulder. It’s instantaneous, how he reacts, his whole body squeezing down on Hannibal’s cock as he comes with a high wail. It’s the first time Will’s ever orgasmed, Hannibal’s sure; his first pleasure tasted while sheathed around his alpha and in the throes of his first heat.

 

Will’s body clenches and relaxes reflexively through the orgasm, milking out Hannibal’s own pleasure. This is the true beauty of an omega, Hannibal knows. No beta can clench so beautifully around an alpha’s cock, can draw an alpha inviolably into release with the contractions of their own pleasure. 

 

Will’s still panting, unsated, as Hannibal’s knot begins to swell. He’ll need the knot to clench around to sate the fever of his heat. Hannibal allows some of his weight to rest on the boy as he works through his own pleasure. He can feel his cock swelling, burgeoning at Will’s hole. Soon the light pink of his entrance will become darker, the mark of his first mating, of his bonding to Hannibal. It’s acutely satisfying to know that the omega will forever be marked his mounting, nearly as gratifying as the orgasm still coursing through him.

 

But Will’s still struggling, his young body resisting taking an alpha knot for the first time. Tears once again streak his cheeks, his whole face turning a bright feverish red. Will wriggles his hips, tugging on the knot as if he can squirm away.

 

That’s more than enough. Hannibal snarls viciously, watching as Will freezes utterly underneath him, the small downy hairs on the back of his neck rising at the inherent command in his alpha’s snarl. “I can’t,” Will slurs, still deep in his heat fever. “I can’t take it.”

 

Hannibal has had enough of this. He bites down, deep, on the nape of Will’s neck. He’s only read of this phenomena, of that one spot on an omegan neck that, when bitten, will cause an omega to go as docile as a small feline gripped by the scruff.

 

Will reacts even better than a textbook could ever possibly suggest, coming hard; his entire body clamps down on Hannibal’s knot with enough pressure to bring a wet sob from Will’s lips. Will’s eyes squeeze shut with the sensation, even more of those beautiful fat tears to leaking out of the corners.  But even as his body nearly seizes inside, he doesn’t move, utterly still, body limp and still under Hannibal’s own, no part of him moving but the rhythmic clench and release of his ass. Hannibal settles over him, making sure that every inch of Will is tucked under his weight.

 

Hannibal is rooted deep, tucked up as far inside Will as he can possibly be with his hips cushioned against the plushness of Will’s backside. He can still feel the aftershocks of his orgasm, can hypothesize how much come he’ll flood his boy with. It’s satisfying in utterly primal way to know that he’s mated Will so thoroughly, that even now, even as Will sighs and goes boneless and near drugged from pleasure, Hannibal’s progeny might now be taking root in his belly. He presses tender kisses to the back of Will’s neck, tucking his nose deep into Will’s hair. Yes, there it is, Will’s scent sweetening, the unique scent of him mellowing as he bonds to Hannibal.

 

Will settles even further under his weight. His limbs feel nearly liquid, he’s so pliant, utterly perfect to rest on. Hannibal’s heard of this, this omegan instinct to be covered at all angles and from all sides, had seen objects like the omegan poster bed, the omegan nesting kits, that were supposed to provide security, but it’s the first time he’s ever offered that security himself. It’s thrilling in a way he never would have imagined, to be the center of an omega’s world.

 

Hannibal carefully rearranges Will’s limbs, folding him until he’s safely folded on his side in Hannibal’s arms. Will’s drowsy now, his eyelashes fluttering, almost as if he’s forgotten Hannibal’s still knotted inside him. Hannibal gathers Will even farther into his chest, intertwining their legs and tucking Will’s head firmly under his chin. It’s then when one of Will’s sleepy sighs fades into a small, rumbling purr.

 

Hannibal buries his face into his mate’s neck, chasing the sound. It’s soothing, after the harsh high caused by Will’s heating pheromones, and Hannibal finds himself winding down. His omega is safe and sure and _his_ in his arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Story is completed. I will finish posting it over the next couple of days. I hope you enjoy!


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